


The Decision That Made the World Fall

by interlude



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Eden - Freeform, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 16:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1274002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interlude/pseuds/interlude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a garden and you are its guard, a protector of perfection.</p><p>One day there is a snake in the nothingness outside the garden; it approaches the gate. "Dear Angel, I seek entrance," it says.</p><p> </p><p>(the story of Gadreel)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Decision That Made the World Fall

There is a garden and you are its guard, a protector of perfection.

You stand at the gate, flaming sword in hand – silent and steady, you hold your post.

One day there is a snake in the nothingness outside the garden; it approaches the gate. “Dear Angel, I seek entrance,” it says. You deny it – had it deserved entrance would it not have been there already? You have been positioned to guard the entrance from evil, to keep the taint of the fallen from the beauty inside. There was a time when this would not have been necessary – there was a time when separation was unprecedented. It saddens you to know this is no longer the case. Still, you will follow orders and keep the unwanted, the unworthy, out.

The snake turns away. You watch it go, thinking of fallen brothers.

It returns not long after, repeating its previous request.

You grow wary of it.

Again you turn it away and again it returns, a hundred times, saying, “Dear Angel, I seek entrance.” This request is a constant, but after the second time you turn it away various additions appear. “I am tired, I seek rest”, “I wish to witness the beauty inside”, “Are you so heartless to turn me away from refuge?”

You grow weary of it.

One day it comes with a question. “Dear Angel, why will you not grant me entrance?”

“I can not. I do not know your intentions.”

“Do I seem evil?”

“It does not matter. I do not know your intentions.”

“I will tell you them. I merely seek shelter. I am hungry; there is food inside. I am cold; inside there is warmth. I am disheartened and miserable; inside there is great beauty to witness. I am lonely; inside there is company.”

“I can not grant you entrance,” you say, firm.

“Very well,” replies the snake. “May I instead stay here at the gate with you and talk? I wish for company.”

No one has ever sought you out for company before. No one has wished to speak with you merely for pleasure. Not your brothers, for angels rarely seek pleasure. Not even your Father, for He is a busy God, you understand, with little time for all his sons. The snake’s request sparks warmth within you, a response you do not quite understand – you think you like it.

“Yes.”

So the snake stays at your feet, far enough from your sword to avoid the flames. It speaks of the things outside the Garden – there is little, as you suspected, and most of it terrible. Certainly terrible compared to the wonder you guard. Outside the Garden there are other angels, the snake says – or what used to be angels.

“Are they not still angels?” the snake asks when you correct its wording.

“No. They have given up that right.”

“They have only chosen to think for themselves – to question and decide, rather than blindly follow. Is that so wrong?”

“They have disobeyed our Father. It is the most terrible wrong possible.”

The snake lowers its head, quiet. Then it slides closer, curling its cold body around your ankles. “How terrible. They began to doubt and instead of receiving comfort and reassurance, they received exile. Cut off from their siblings and Father alike, without even the chance to restore their faith.”

You have never thought of it in such a manner. You missed your fallen brothers; you mourned their fall, but you have never felt so saddened by your Father’s response towards them. It is a dangerous line of thinking, but you wonder if your Father might have reacted differently and kept the war from happening.

It is a terrible line of thinking. It is the same type of thinking that led to their fall in the first place.

“Snake, say no more on that subject.”

For a few days, the snake honors your request. It talks of other things – speculation on the garden, questions about the new humans inside. “Do they deserve its beauty?” it asks at one point.

You wonder. Surely they cannot appreciate it like you and your brothers might have. Azazel had once told you they did not even see all the colors angels can. “Only seven million,” he had sneered. “And they can not perceive several levels, either.” That was the last time you had spoken to Azazel; you wonder where he is now, if he is with The Agitator. (You dare not even think of him by name.)

Azazel made his decision, you remind yourself – and therein lies the problem: angels do not make decisions, they follow their Father’s orders. You must remind yourself if you are forgetting. (If you are, Heaven Forbid, following the Agitator’s example and questioning.) “Is making decisions really such a crime?” the snake asks later. You despise yourself for wondering the same.

This is how your days pass for quite a while, the snake wrapped round your ankle providing conversation and questions. For all the times he speaks of unwanted things, you still enjoy his company. He reminds you, in fact, of one of your former brothers – the one you will not name. It is almost like having him returned.

“I do so wish – well,” the snake sighs one day.

“What do you wish?”

“I would very much like to see the Garden. Just once. I want to see what wonders He has created in this place gifted to the humans.”

You do not answer, though you know the correct one.

“Just an hour. To wander the Garden and admire it. Admire His work.” The snake sounds burdened with the knowledge that he will never see the Garden’s wonders. It saddens you to hear the one you have grown fond of speak in such a manner.

For the first time in your existence, you deviate from your orders. You decide.  
“One hour,” you say strictly as you open the gates behind you. “Touch nothing but the ground. Speak to no one within. Do not make your presence known. If you do not return to me, I will find you.”

“Oh, you are so kind. You are indeed a great ally, a wonderful brother,” the snake tells you as he enters and slithers away into the grass. “How intelligent and awe-inspiring you are, with your decisions. How amazing it is, to think for yourself, yes?”

He does so remind you of the Agitator, you think again as you shut the gate.

 


End file.
